


Sea Castle

by laurenkinn



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Abduction, Anal Fingering, BAMF Danny, Begging, Cock Rings, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Graphic Violence, Guilt, Home Invasion, Hurt Steve McGarrett, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Investigations, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Object Penetration, Original Character Death(s), Overstimulation, POV Alternating, POV Danny "Danno" Williams, POV Steve McGarrett, Payback, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Sounding, St. Andrew's Cross, Stalking, Threats, Worried Danny "Danno" Williams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenkinn/pseuds/laurenkinn
Summary: When Steve is suddenly abducted from his own home, Danny and the Five-0 team must track down his kidnappers and rescue him before it's too late.





	1. Fragile Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> For my first McDanno fic I am attempting a multi-chaptered, expansive sort of idea. I hope to update every week but life tends to get in my way so don't hold me to it.
> 
> There will, at some points, be graphic violence and an eventual rape scene, so be forewarned. **I will update tags as I go!**
> 
> Title courtesy of "Sea Castle" by Purity Ring, which I believe has very fitting lyrics for the direction I'm going.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Thank you all for reading!

“Higher, Danno!  Higher!”

“I’m pushing as hard as I can, monkey, I don’t think you can get any higher.”

“I don’t care, try harder!”

Danny grins as the swing carrying his daughter careens back his way, his arms raised to push it a little harder this time, Grace letting out a shriek of happiness as she travels through the air.  

The playground is technically not open when school isn’t in session, Danny knows this, but he can never seem to tell Grace “no,” especially when it involves being outdoors. The Saturday morning air smells of freshly mown grass and something uniquely Hawaii, and the longer Danny stays on the island, the _more_ he wants to stay.  It’s like his body craves the tropical air, the warmth, the nearly perpetual sunlight.  His skin is tanner, his hair a little lighter, and he’s never seen Grace happier, so he figures Hawaii isn’t all that bad.

_“You need a break, Danno, to spend a little time with Grace,” Steve had said, his expression shutting down any argument Danny had on the tip of his tongue.  “You’ve been through the meat grinder the past couple weeks.  Chin, Kono, and I can take care of things around here.  You go have some fun.”_

_Danny had nodded, finding he didn’t even have the energy to argue the point._

“Danno, keep pushing!”

Danny snaps out of his daydream, apologizing to his pouting daughter and pushing the swing again, his heart soaring at the delighted sound she makes.  

His cell vibrates in his back pocket, a constant reminder that even though Steve had given him some time off in good faith, he still has a job.  A job that occasionally has a nasty habit of pulling him away from the things he loves.  He fishes the device out and takes a look at the caller I.D., frowning at Kono’s name across the screen.  

“Hey monkey, I’m gonna walk right over here, okay?  You just keep swinging,” he tells Grace as he strides a few yards away.  His eyes remain on his daughter as he answers the phone.

“Danny?  It’s Kono.”

“Hey, what’s up?”  Danny has an uneasy feeling at the tone of her voice, and his stomach does an uncomfortable flip as his mind goes through the possibilities.

Kono sighs.  “Danny, I’m sorry, I know Steve gave you some time off, and I wouldn’t call you if I had to, but we need your help.”

“What?” Danny asks tightly, perking up immediately.  “Is it a case?”

“Sort of,” Kono answers, sounding hesitant.  “It’s Steve.”

Danny frowns.  “Okay?” he says, tone questioning.  

“Danny, I think something has happened.  He didn’t show up this morning and he’s not answering calls.  I’d go check his house but I’m all the way on the other side of the island.  Can you get over there?”

Danny is already in gear, retrieving Grace from the swing with a whispered “ _sorry, monkey, we’ll come back soon_ ” and hauling ass towards the car while informing Kono that he’s already on his way.

“Thanks Danny, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I’ll keep you updated.”  Danny hangs up the phone as he’s strapping Grace into her booster seat, his heart pounding.

“Daddy, where are we going?” Grace asks in a pitiful tone as Danny backs out of the parking spot, tires screeching a little.  

“We’re going to Uncle Steve’s, okay, baby?” he replies, voice calmer than he’d expected given the circumstances.  “But when we get there I’m gonna need you to stay in the car, okay?”

Grace, ever the curious child she is, asks, “Is Uncle Steve alright?”  Her voice is very quiet, as if she knows something is up.  Danny smiles gently, glancing at her in the rearview.

“I think he’s fine, monkey, I just need to check on him.”

Children and their perceptiveness.

The drive takes half the amount of time it usually does, Danny opting about a minute and a half in to just put on the sirens.  He doesn’t usually like to do that, especially when he’s not totally sure there’s an emergency, but he figures ‘better safe than sorry’ and speeds through traffic in a way that reminds him eerily of Steve.

He pulls into the drive, all senses on high alert, and takes the keys out of the ignition.  

“Alright, stay here, okay?  And don’t open the door.” he tells Grace sternly, and she nods, eyes wide.

Danny cracks the windows and gets out of the car, locking it behind him.  His gun is resting against the small of his back, a welcome weight that he feels naked without, a reminder that he has something to protect himself and his family with should the need arise.  He walks towards Steve’s front door, noting his partner’s truck still sitting in the driveway.  Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he never ignores his instincts.  He draws the gun out of his waistband and clicks the safety off as he climbs the steps to Steve’s front door.  From a distance, he was unable to tell what he was going to find, but now he sees that the door is open just a smidge, the handle and wood around it busted.

“Shit,” he whispers to himself, raising the gun and slowly pushing the door open.  His heart lurches at the sight before him as he walks into the house.  The living room shows obvious signs of a struggle, lamps broken on the floor and end tables turned over.  The far wall sports multiple bullet holes, and slumped down beside it is a body.  Tossing care to the wind, Danny runs towards it, kneeling down and turning it over.  He breathes a sigh of relief:  it’s not Steve.

Rising, he continues his trek through the house, tiptoeing as best he can in flip flops.  Figures, he would take Steve’s advice to dress down a little and end up having to use stealth mode in shoes he can barely walk in, much less keep quiet in.  

The rest of the house looks better but still damaged, and by Danny’s calculations the fight started in Steve’s bedroom and ended in the living room.  He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and trots back out to the car, unlocking it and climbing in.

“Danno?  Where’s Uncle Steve?” Grace asks timidly.

“I don’t know, monkey, give me a minute,” Danny answers, quickly dialing Kono.

“This is Kono.”

“Kono, hey, it’s Danny.  I need a team out here immediately.”

“What?” Kono says, alarm clear in her tone.  “What did you find?”

Danny looks in the rearview mirror again, lowering his voice.  “I don’t know, Kono, he’s not here, I don’t know where he is.”  He can hear the panic rising in his own voice.  “There’s a body, his house is trashed.  I think someone took him.  I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Kono curses.  “Alright, I’ll scramble a team out to you.  Stay there.”

“Ehh, I have to take Grace to her mother’s,” Danny says.  “I’ll head back over once I’m done.”  

“Alright,” Kono agrees.  “And Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him.  We’ll bring him home.”

Danny wishes he could believe her.


	2. Frailties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Once I knew you were by yourself, it was quite simple, really. My men are always nearby, waiting on my word. You managed to kill one of them, which is really quite an accomplishment in and of itself. They’re all highly trained.”
> 
> “Yeah, well, so am I,” Steve grumbles before he can stop himself. The man laughs heartily.
> 
> “Right you are,” he agrees. “Unfortunately, you just weren’t skilled enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem is, I wrote this chapter spanning multiple days which means I was in multiple different moods, levels of tiredness, etc. I'm only sort of pleased with it, but that'll have to do, because to me it was a filler chapter (despite some info that is very important to the plot). 
> 
> Please be aware! There is semi-graphic violence and nonconsensual touching in this chapter! If these things trigger you, please don't move forward! It will only get worse from here!
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are appreciated.

It’s the pain that wakes Steve from unconsciousness, a bone-deep ache, the kind he remembers from rigorous training or long hours sparring.  His eyelids feel heavy, his mouth dry from breathing in through it for too long, and he licks his lips to restore some moisture to the cracked skin only to taste the metallic tang of blood; it leaves a coating on his tongue that makes him gag, all copper and the reminder of pain.  Chills wrack his body, his senses telling him he’s been stripped of all clothing, but his mind is unable to grasp the reason why.  He can feel his arms stretched above him with chains at his wrists, the appendages having long since gone numb; his calves are on fire from trying to keep balance on whatever is beneath his feet.  It isn’t the floor.  It’s something small, something his kidnappers surely thought would be difficult to stand on.

They weren’t wrong.

His mind struggles to replay the events that led up to this, trying to remember faces, or voices, or _anything_ , but he keeps drawing blanks.  

Steve is not an idiot.  He knows he has enemies, some amateurs with vengeance on their minds, some professionals with every intent on killing him and making sure nobody finds his body.  He reckons it could go either way, but there is no in between.  This time, he knows he’s dealing with a professional.  His home had been stormed by no less than fifteen men, and he’d only been able to take down one of them and injure a couple others before the butt of a gun struck his temple.

By this point, Danny and the others will have found his house looking a wreck, and with any luck, they’ll be looking for him.  Steve can only hope he’s still on the island, but when he opens his eyes, all he sees is darkness.  There is no evidence pointing towards his kidnapper having taken him away from Hawaii, but there is also no evidence saying he has been moved.

His stomach growls, the sound nearly deafening in the quiet blackness, and Steve grimaces.  He’s starving; he can’t remember the last time he ate, and that’s bad.  He’s not sure how long he’s even been missing, chained up in this godforsaken place, and that’s even worse.  For the first time since waking up, Steve feels at least an iota of panic swell in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Oh, so you’re awake now,” a male voice rings out, and Steve jerks, trying to identify the direction the words came from.  “You won’t be able to see me, Steven, but I can see you.  So kind of you to join me.”

“Where am I, you son of a bitch?” Steve spits in a cracked voice, even though he knows he won’t get an answer and will likely instead get decked in the face.

“My, you’re feisty when you wake up,” the voice chuckles.  “You don’t need to know where you are, only that you’ll die here.”  Footsteps approach, and Steve forces his heart to stop pounding, forces his breathing to even out, tries to remember his training.  It’s never failed him.

“Look, I don’t know what I did to you, but surely you can’t think abducting me is a good option,” Steve reasons with the man in as calm a voice as he can muster.  “We can talk about this, huh?  Let’s just talk it out.  Nobody needs to get hurt.”

Another chuckle, and Steve feels a fingertip trace down his neck and over his shoulder, drawing a shudder out of his already chilled body.  He opens his mouth to say something, more words of reason, but a clammy hand claps over his lips before he gets the chance.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’ll have to gag you,” the voice growls directly into his ear.  Steve breathes quietly through his nose, his chest tight with fear, and nods.  The hand leaves his mouth slowly, his kidnapper obviously trying to gauge whether or not Steve will obey his order, then footsteps shuffle across the ground and come to a halt behind Steve.

“Now here’s how this is going to work, Steven,” the man says calmly, a hand coming to rest on Steve’s left hip in a hot grip.  “I’m going to pay you a visit three times a day, during which I expect your full cooperation; I have plans for you, but I won’t burden you with the details.  There will be guards stationed outside this room in the event that you try to escape, but trust me, there will be nowhere to go if you do.  I wouldn’t expect your little team to catch up with me anytime soon.  Once they find you, you’ll be long dead.”  The hand on his hip strokes a path across his lower back and Steve arches away from the touch as best he can without losing balance, the extra movement causing his entire body to smart.  He gasps, and the man laughs darkly, leaving one last searing touch at the cleft of Steve’s ass before moving away.  “You know, all the pictures don’t do you justice,” the man comments.  “I didn’t realize what a catch you were.”

Through a fog of weariness, hunger, and pain, Steve begins putting together a mental picture.  “What, you’ve been stalking me?” he asks on a pant.  “Why?”

“I had to know your movements, Steven.  Where you work, where you live, who you keep company with.  That partner of yours doesn’t leave your side often, does he?  No, getting you alone was quite the job.”  The man sniffs, moves around the room a bit, Steve closing his eyes and trying to keep tabs on his abductor’s location.  “Once I knew you were by yourself, it was quite simple, really.  My men are always nearby, waiting on my word.  You managed to kill one of them, which is really quite an accomplishment in and of itself.  They’re all highly trained.”

“Yeah, well, so am I,” Steve grumbles before he can stop himself.  The man laughs heartily.

“Right you are,” he agrees.  “Unfortunately, you just weren’t skilled _enough._ ”

More footsteps.  Probably to Steve’s right, if he had to wager a guess.  “Why me?” Steve asks carefully.  “Who am I to you?  I don’t recognize your voice.  Did I arrest you?”

The man is very quiet for a few minutes, then he clears his throat.  “No, you didn’t arrest me,” he answers.  “Your father arrested my father, twenty years ago.  I was only a teenager, raised by a single dad.  You of all people should understand what that’s like.”

“I get it, I do,” Steve assures the man, voice steady despite his aching body.  “But whatever happened between them twenty years ago has nothing to do with us.”  He steels himself.  “Look, just let me down, and we can talk about this, man.  I can help you.”

“You can’t help me!” the man shouts, making Steve wince.  “If I let you down, you’ll make sure I rot in jail, just like my father.  I never got to see him again, you know.  Watched your old man drag him out of the house with handcuffs on.  I lost everything that day.”  A pause, then, “I promised myself that I would hunt down everything your father holds dear and rip it away from him, just like he did to me.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that your father was murdered a few years back.  I never got to give him a taste of his own medicine, so I figured I’d at least fuck up his son.  It took me a long time, but now I have you, and I won’t be letting you down anytime soon.”

Steve knows the punch is coming before it hits him, can practically hear the air whistling around the man’s fist right before it collides with his abdomen, forcing the breath out of him.  He leans forward and coughs, barely registering another punch coming at him before he’s clocked in the jaw.  He sees stars, the world around him becoming distant as blow after blow rains down on him.  When the man is done, he can hear his own blood dripping out of his mouth and hitting the floor.  

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Steven,” the man whispers menacingly, gripping what little bit of hair Steve has and yanking his head back.  “I hope you’re ready when I return.”

The man’s footsteps leaving are the last thing Steve hears before his head droops forward and he falls unconscious.


	3. Take Time, Make Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive back to headquarters feels lonelier than Danny can remember being in the recent past. For all the ribbing he and Steve get up to, all the times Danny complains that he never gets to drive his own car, he finds himself wishing Steve were in the driver’s seat instead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, figuring out exact locations, street names, etc. is a lot harder than it looks. Google Maps was my best friend for this chapter, and I still took a lot of liberties that I'm sure are at least mildly inaccurate. I tried my best.
> 
> This chapter is a bit slow and plotty, but the good stuff is coming, so never fear! 
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are greatly appreciated.

“Alright, what do we have?” Danny asks as he strides into Steve’s house, past the evidence team and towards Kono.

“So far, not much,” Kono replies somberly.  “They’re running the vic’s finger prints through the system but no hit yet.  By the look of things, we aren’t just dealing with a couple of people here.  This was an entire team.”

Danny swallows down a wave of nausea, apprehension clawing at his gut.  “Makes sense,” he says.  “Steve McGarrett is not a man to go down without a fight.  Whoever took him must have known that.”

“Right,” Kono agrees.  “Hopefully we’ll know more once we get a positive I.D. on this guy.”  She jerks her thumb towards the body on the floor and sighs.  A few moments later, Danny can feel her eyes on him, studying his face, trying to find any hint of how devastated he truly is.  “You okay, Danny?”

“No, not really,” he answers, feeling tears prick at his eyes and blinking them away quickly.  His hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck.  “This doesn’t make any sense.  I mean, yeah, I guess a lot of people have a grudge against Five-0 for putting them behind bars, but why Steve?  Why not you, or me?  I don’t get it.”

Kono shrugs.  “Steve’s the boss,” she provides as an explanation, though not without emotion.  Danny looks up at her and sees her swipe a hand across her eyes quickly; he chooses not to say anything.  

“Okay, just let me know what the crime lab comes up with,” he says, sounding more like Steve than he’d care to admit, which normally would make him smile but now just makes him feel sick.  Kono nods and turns away, barking out orders to forensics in a decidedly not-very-Kono sort of way.  Danny spins around and heads towards the front door, his eyes darting every which way, as if he’s going to find new evidence on his way out.  He can barely even look at the damaged doorknob as he passes over the threshold and into the Hawaii heat; it makes his stomach churn.  

The drive back to headquarters feels lonelier than Danny can remember being in the recent past.  For all the ribbing he and Steve get up to, all the times Danny complains that he never gets to drive his own car, he finds himself wishing Steve were in the driver’s seat instead of him.  He parks across the length of at least two parking spots when he arrives, rolling his eyes at another bad habit he’s picked up from Steve, and heads into the building with a sense of purpose.  People hurry to get out of his way as he strides towards the stairs; he may be small in stature, but he more than makes up for it in attitude, and he knows it.  

Chin is situated in front of the main computer when Danny walks through the double doors, looking deep in thought as he furiously types something.  Neither of them say anything as Danny approaches, something he is fiercely grateful for.  He comes to a halt beside his teammate, looking down at the screen without a word.  Chin is studying traffic cameras, he realizes, probably trying to spot any suspicious vehicles in the vicinity of Steve’s house.  Without knowing a time frame, though, Danny knows it’ll take a long time to lock in on anything.

Forgoing any questions or comments, Danny heads towards his office quietly, shutting the door with a little more force than is necessary and closing the blinds.  His head throbs with unshed tears as he takes a seat at his desk and closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair.  His thoughts are invaded with the events of the day, starting with Kono’s phone call and leading up to now, bent forward in his chair with his elbows on the desk, trying to avoid having an emotional meltdown.  It seems like ages ago that he was pushing Grace’s swing into the air, all traces of happiness effectively burned out of him, only to be replaced by worry and fear.  Steve wouldn’t want that.  If it were anybody else missing, Steve would expect Danny to get the job done, even if it meant working himself into the dirt; this would be no different.  The thought seems to give Danny a burst of new determination.  He pushes his chair out and stands just as he hears Chin call his name.  His heart gives an excited flip, legs moving quickly to the door and out of the office.

“Did you get something?” Danny asks, trotting to the computer.

“I definitely got _something_ ,” Chin answers.  “Look at this.”  He swipes upward on the screen, throwing a traffic cam video to the television screens above them.  Danny follows Chin’s gaze, squinting his eyes to see what it is they’re looking at.  

“Okay?” he says, a question in his tone.  “What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

“I’m getting to that,” Chin explains.  “I’ve been running traffic cams on Lunalilo Freeway from last night starting at ten o’clock, around the time Steve left, trying to determine if he was followed.”  At Danny’s questioning look, Chin shrugs, saying, “I checked the logs when he didn’t show up this morning.  I guess he was here later than usual.”  His gaze returns to the screens in front of them, a finger coming up to point.  “He gets to Kalanianaole Highway with no issues, then look.”  Danny does what he’s told and moves a little closer to the screen Chin is watching, nodding slowly.

“Okay, that’s Steve’s truck,” he states.

“Right,” Chin agrees.  “But look, shortly before he turns into the driveway there’s a black van that seems to be following him, right here across from Nenue Street.  I doubled back and realized that this van tailed him a pretty long way, from right around Honolulu City Hall, specifically.”

Danny frowns.  “That _is_ a long way,” he agrees, reaching up to scratch his forehead agitatedly.  “But Steve isn’t an idiot.  He would’ve realized he was being followed.”

“Not necessarily,” Chin replies, shaking his head.  “Aina Haina is a popular area.  Steve wouldn’t have known he was being followed until well past there, and even then, who’s to say the van wouldn’t have stayed on the highway?  It stays just far enough back that Steve would’ve already gone into his driveway before it passed by.  Which means he wouldn’t have seen it stop on the side of the road, right here.”  He points again.

“Okay, so can we get a plate number?” Danny asks, his heart thudding against his chest almost aggressively.

“I already did,” Chin says, “and you’re not going to like it.”

“What?”  Danny’s breath quickens, the same feeling of nausea from earlier creeping back up on him without warning.

“The van was reported stolen three days ago.  I managed to find a semi-clear shot of the driver from a stoplight cam and ran it through the database.  It came back to a Michael Eastcott.”  With a few taps on the computer screen, Chin swipes the driver’s details up onto the television screen.  “He died five years ago.”


	4. Where Have I Been?  (Why Can't You See Me?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wish you could see yourself right now, Steven,” the man murmurs, running a hand through Steve’s hair almost soothingly. “I didn’t think I would enjoy watching you suffer so much, but fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. If anything about Steve's situation has bothered anyone up to this point, please turn back now. This chapter is very dark. 
> 
> **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A LENGTHY RAPE SCENE! BE FOREWARNED!**
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.

Steve wakes what feels like eons later, his head pounding viciously while the rest of his body throbs dully.  It seems, despite his probable lengthy bout of unconsciousness, he hasn’t been moved; on top of the numbness in his arms, he can no longer feel his toes, and his calves feel tight and uncomfortable, like if he moves even a half inch they’ll break with charley horses.  Instead, he opts not to shift or reposition himself just to be on the safe side and, cautiously, deciding to see if he has any company.

“Hello?” he rasps, the scratching feeling in his throat forcing a cough out of him that leaves him gasping for air as his side burns with white hot pain.  He makes a mental (if not hazy) note that he probably has a broken rib or two.  He’s used to this, the act of cataloguing his injuries.  It keeps him aware, at least of how bad his situation is.  Right now he’d say his situation is bad but not dire, but he knows that is subject to change at any given moment.  He turns his head weakly, looking around for even a sliver of light but finding none.  “Hello?” he tries again, bursting into another coughing fit.  The door to his prison opens and closes, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Good morning, Steven,” a silky voice says, one he recognizes as his captor.  A hand moves through his hair and grips it, pulling his head back firmly.  “Open up.”

“No,” Steve growls, but the man takes that small window of opportunity where Steve’s mouth is open and shoves a plastic piece between his lips.  Steve struggles momentarily then feels the soothing coolness of water running down his throat and lets out a small moan, drinking from the bottle greedily until nothing else comes out.

“There, was that so bad?” his abductor asks almost gently, removing the tip of the bottle from Steve’s mouth.  Steve knows the tactic very well:  the man is trying to exude a false sense of security to catch Steve off guard, to make Steve trust him.  It’s nothing more than a trick, and Steve doesn’t fall for it or respond.  The man is very quiet for a few moments before he speaks again.  “Answer my question.”  This time his tone of voice is clearly meant to instill fear in Steve and force a response out of him; and, once more, Steve does not answer.  For a minute, he thinks the man has moved on, then a fist connects with his ribs.  Stars burst behind Steve’s eyelids and he doubles over as best he can, the pain clawing a gasping groan out of him, leaving the entire side of his body on fire.  He blinks away tears, refusing to let mere nerve endings control him, forcing himself not to feel the pain.  His captor chuckles.

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that,” the man comments.  “But how strong are you _really_?”  The words are followed by a knocking sound, then the door to the room swings open, a small bit of light flooding into the darkness and nearly blinding Steve, his eyes having become so accustomed to the darkness.  He blinks rapidly, trying to get a view of his captor as the man walks to the door, but all he can see is a silhouette.  The man is murmuring to someone outside the door in a low voice, then he steps aside and a large figure approaches Steve.

“The St. Andrew’s Cross will do fine,” Steve’s abductor orders curtly.  Steve’s heart thuds in his chest as he listens, a mental image making itself visible in his head.  He’s no stranger to porn, having practically thrived on it for the better part of half his lifespan, his hand being the one steadfast source of happiness in his life as a teenager and young adult; but this, this he always knew would _stay_ in the world of erotic videos, never making its way into his very vanilla sex life, or so help him.  He feels panic tighten his chest, pleading prayers to whatever deity might be listening repeating themselves in his brain.  He doesn’t realize he’s making a pathetic whimpering noise until a large hand stuffs a ball gag into his mouth, fastening the straps behind his head with a grumbled, “Quiet.”

A few moments later, with no warning, the chains holding his wrists come down from the ceiling and he collapses onto the ground with a muffled shout of simultaneous pain and relief as blood returns to his arms.  The feeling is a unique type of burn, like searing needles stabbing his flesh relentlessly. 

“Get him up,” his abductor commands, and Steve hears something akin to arousal in the man’s voice just before the large man grunts and suddenly drags Steve up by the cuffs still around his wrists, the pull of the metal against his oversensitive skin enough to draw another pained sound out of him.  He tells himself he should clock out now, that being mentally present for whatever is about to happen next will only hurt, but a sort of morbid curiosity keeps him grounded.  He feels the constriction in his chest lessen slightly and takes it as a good sign, a sign that he is in control of his emotions.  

Before he knows what’s happening outside of his own thoughts, he can feel himself being hauled into a standing position and the cuffs removed, only to have his wrists shoved one by one back into what can only be leather shackles.  The restraints tighten around his wrists enough to bite into the sores left from his extended time spent practically hanging in the handcuffs, but he resolutely ignores the discomfort.  Next, he can feel his ankles being restrained in the same manner, and there, there’s the panic again.  It blooms in his chest once more, the realization that even though the hurt from the cuffs was more severe, he is more heavily restrained now than before.  His nakedness is also not lost on him, and for the first time since arriving at wherever he is, he begins to struggle against his bindings, pretending the pain in his ribs does not exist in his need to escape.

“Thank you, that’ll do fine,” the voice of his captor states, and footsteps leave the room, the door closing behind them with a loud clang.  Steve goes semi-limp in the restraints, feeling almost certain that he’s alone in the room, then the man speaks again, making him jump.  “You know, the more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt.”  A hand reaches up and undoes the buckle on the gag, removing it gently, allowing Steve to speak.

“ _Fuck_ you,” he spits with as much venom as he can muster.  “You think this is normal, capturing grown men and raping them?  Because it’s not.”

“Ah, Steven,” the man sighs, clearly ignoring the vehemence in Steve’s tone.  “I already told you, I plan to make you suffer like I did.  Whatever it takes.”

Footsteps approach Steve and his heart begins to beat a rapid staccato inside his chest cavity.  Every instinct tells him to wait, wait until the man is closer then use every resource available to strike out.  His head, his teeth, _whatever._   He can’t let this happen, he _won’t_ let this happen.  His ears strain to hear where his captor is but they don’t pick anything up, as if the man has simply vanished; but a few seconds later a fist connects with his jaw and he goes limp against the shackles, his head beginning to pulse, his jaw smarting.  

“I wish you could see yourself right now, Steven,” the man murmurs, running a hand through Steve’s hair almost soothingly.  “I didn’t think I would enjoy watching you suffer so much, but _fuck_ , you’re gorgeous.”  Another hand strokes down Steve’s chest slowly, stopping to rub at a nipple on its way south.  “You know,” the man continues conversationally, his hand going ever lower, “I didn’t realize I was into men until, gosh, only a few years ago.  There’s actually quite a large gay community where I come from.  Have you ever slept with a man, Steven?”  The question is punctuated by a hand squeezing Steve’s soft cock, the touch almost too rough, and the fog in his head clears enough to send his body into an instinctual fight mode.  Unthinking, he surges forward as far as his restraints allow and feels his teeth connect with something, maybe the man’s face, maybe his shoulder, he doesn’t care.  He bites down with as much force as he can muster and the man shrieks, the hands on different areas of Steve’s body disappearing momentarily.

“You fucking _bitch_!” the man shouts, and Steve hears pounding at the door of the room followed by a muffled voice asking if everything is okay.  His abductor, by the sound of things, stumbles rather than walks over to the door and it opens a crack.  “I’m fine, the asshole bit me is all,” he growls to the man outside the door.  “Stop looking so worried, I’ll deal with him.  Stay close.”  The door shuts then and Steve can hear the man approaching him, each step closer sounding angrier than before.  Steve braces himself for what will inevitably come next: a few punches, maybe a knife carving into his flesh.  Instead, a hand grasps his still-soft cock and gives another hard squeeze, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Wrong move, Steven,” the man purrs into his ear.  “You’ll pay for that.”  As the words leave the man’s mouth he replaces the ball gag, fastening it almost too tightly so that the edges of the straps bite into Steve’s face.  Steve makes a frustrated noise of mixed anger and fear before he can help himself, every fiber of his being telling him to do anything he can to protect himself, to little avail.  Before he has time to iron out a plan, his captor’s hand is back on his cock, stroking this time instead of squeezing.  

“You’ll never get out of here, Steven, so you’d best enjoy what you can before I hurt you,” the man says darkly, his other hand moving over Steve’s abdomen and down to his balls, cupping them softly.  “I’ve always wanted to do this.  Tie someone up so they’re completely at my mercy, begging me to stop but wanting me to continue.  You want me to continue, don’t you, Steven?”  

Steve growls, throwing his weight forward in as intimidating a manner as he can muster, drawing a laugh out of his kidnapper.  “You keep fighting this all you want, but soon you’ll be moaning for me.”  The hand at his balls fondles each one carefully, a strange contradiction to the words pouring from the man’s mouth.  Steve closes his eyes, feels tears begin to pour down his cheeks without warning, and curses himself internally for not being stronger.  If his team saw him like this, they would probably have a hard time calling him their leader.  What would Danny think, seeing him tied up, naked, powerless to stop a complete stranger from invading one of his most private areas so easily?  He doesn’t even want to consider it.  It feels almost wrong to think of Danny during this moment, his partner seeming so pure compared to the filthy predicament he’s in.  Even now, he can feel his own body betraying him, his cock beginning to show interest in his captor’s ministrations; and despite his best efforts to stop it, his captor notices.

“Aha!” the man exclaims delightedly.  “Look at you.  You want this.”  His thumb swipes over the head of Steve’s hardening cock, fingers wrapping around the shaft and tugging slowly, smearing precum around.  “Give in to it, Steven.  I know you want this.  Your cock is hard for me.”  The words feel so _wrong_ that they draw a muffled shout of desperation out of Steve.  His wrists pull against the restraints, his body trying to draw in on itself, but the movements only manage to make his pelvis jut forward, effectively fucking his cock into his captor’s fist; and, despite every bit of him screaming that he’s touched in the head, Steve finds that it feels _good._ Before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his hips give a thrust forward, the motion more involuntary than not, but it’s enough to give his captor the green light.

“That’s right, Steven, keep going,” the man encourages him, the hand on his balls moving away and instead pressing against his perineum lightly.  Steve groans, forcing himself to relax in his bindings and catch his breath.  His shoulders ache from the effort expended trying to get free, his mind finally coming to the realization that there is no way out of this one.  It’s either do what the man says for as long as possible and buy himself some time, or disobey and be killed.  With that realization he coaxes himself into a forced state of willingness, giving in to the demands of his body and thrusting forward again.  His abductor chants praises to him as he fucks into the fingers around his cock, feeling physically nauseous and disgusted with himself but knowing that obeying is his only means of survival.  He feels his climax building low in his gut, a fire stoked further as the finger pressing into that sensitive area just behind his balls moves even further back and brushes against his asshole.  With a shocked grunt, Steve comes hard, stars dancing behind his closed eyelids as his captor jerks him through his orgasm.  As he comes down from his high the man continues to tug, the stimulation too much just after climaxing, drawing a long, high sound out of him.

“Shhh, take what I give you, Steven,” the man orders, fist still stripping Steve’s cock roughly.  Steve jerks against the touch, small moans tearing their way out of his body in his tenderness.  Vaguely, he feels the finger pressing against his asshole push inwards, breaching the tight ring of muscle and working its way deeper inside him.  It’s painful without lube, but not nearly as painful as his overstimulated cock being rubbed harder and harder, and not even worth comparing to the pain in his ribs.  Steve chooses his battles carefully, and showing his discomfort now would probably not work in his favor, so he takes the finger as willingly as he can.  

“Good boy,” his captor praises him quietly, adjusting his position and beginning to thrust his finger in and out of Steve rhythmically.  Steve pants around the ball gag, the ache of too much stimulation on his cock pairing with the pleasure of the finger inside him hitting his prostate and working him towards yet another orgasm.  The man must be able to tell, whether it be the tightening of Steve’s hole around the intruding finger or the sounds clawing themselves out of Steve’s throat, he doesn’t know.  One moment he is well on his way to coming again, then the finger disappears and the hand on his cock moves away.  He makes an involuntary sound of displeasure and the man chuckles darkly, a hand stroking Steve’s hip momentarily.

“It’s okay, Steven, just grabbing a little something,” the man explains.  There’s a sound of rifling around, then something slides onto Steve’s cock, all the way to the base, tightening there as it settles into place.  “Just a cock ring, to keep you from coming so soon.”  Steve swallows hard, the sound practically echoing in the empty room.  His abductor chuckles again, and Steve can hear the sound of a bottle cap opening then closing.  A few seconds later a lubed finger presses inside him again, then another just after that, followed by a third.  The back-to-back insertion of multiple fingers burns, the feeling amplified as the man begins to scissor the digits inside Steve, stretching him open.  The other hand returns to his cock and begins to move again, the man’s palm twisting over the head on each upward stroke.  Steve groans, throwing his head back, feeling spit dribble out of the corners of his mouth.  

“Yes, Steven,” his captor coos, adding a fourth finger inside him.  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you, you little slut?  Listen to you.  I told you I’d have you moaning for me, and look how right I was.”  A filthy squelching sound reaches Steve’s ears, fuzzy through the simultaneous pain and pleasure coursing through his body, a sound he realizes is the fingers of his kidnapper thrusting in and out of his hole.  He feels as though, given other circumstances, he could come just from that sound alone; but now, hanging in restraints in a room with a stranger finger-fucking him, he finds he can’t.  Either that, or the device sitting around the base of his cock is preventing him from doing so.  He’s not sure which, and that fucks with his mind a little bit.

Eventually, he finds he doesn’t have to discern whether his mind or the cock ring were keeping him from climaxing.  The fingers disappear, leaving him feeling open and raw, and the hand on his cock also leaves.  He hears the man sifting through what he assumes are sex torture instruments, then the heat of his captor is next to him again, a hand stroking through his sweaty hair like a lover would do.

“Now that I’ve got you sufficiently worked up, I’m going to move on to bigger and better things, Steven,” that silky voice says in his ear.  “The key word here is ‘ _bigger._ ’”  Steve swallows again, unsure what the man means, until he feels something cold and metal press against his hole from an angle.  He gives a sound of surprise as the icy entity is pushed harder, then a yelp of pain as it breaches his body and slides further in than he would’ve thought possible.  Distantly, through the haze of burning pain, he hears metal clang against the floor and realizes with horror that his captor is using some sort of metal pipe or pole on him; and somehow, despite having been violated by multiple fingers and jerked off against his will, this seems truer to the definition of ‘rape’ than all of the previous actions combined.

“Fuck, goddamn,” the man curses, voice sounding thoroughly debauched.  “This will do for tonight, I think.”  

Steve feels panic well up inside him and makes a pleading sound as he hears footsteps walking away, fear overcoming him at the realization that the man is leaving him for hours with this _thing_ inside him.  The man either doesn’t hear him or ignores him, only chuckling as he opens the door.

“Good night, Steven,” he sing-songs, then the door closes and he’s gone.


	5. And Not Stand Back And Stare And Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need a break, Danno,” keeps playing over and over in his head, mocking him, reminding him that it’s his own damn fault they’re in this predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a severe case of writer's block (and so much wedding planning that I may just shoot myself) HERE WE ARE! Finally, the next chapter. Plotty, once more, but aren't Danny's chapters always plotty?
> 
> Nothing too dark here, but there is vital information for understanding the rest of the story, so please don't skip around at this point! 
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are greatly appreciated, and I have been really touched by the amount of people asking where the next chapter is and making sure I haven't abandoned this fic! Thank you so much! <3

“Adrian Lehman, Five-0!  Open the door!”

Danny fidgets in place, his trigger finger itching, eyes darting from the door to the windows to the yard behind him.  Kono nods at him as his eyes sweep over her, silently offering encouragement, her own gun drawn and pointing at the house.  She means business, they all do.  A few seconds of silence and no response pass, then Chin turns to raise an eyebrow at Danny before repeating the command, louder this time, and it’s all Danny can do not to shove past Chin and break the fucking door down himself.  He feels jumpy, imbalanced, his body present but his mind elsewhere.  His stomach churns, a sense of foreboding settling over him like some sort of suffocating blanket, unable to focus on much else besides Steve.  Instead, he thinks back on the past couple of hours and what led them to this point.

 

_“Okay, so we know that this guy’s not dead, obviously,” Danny says, staring up at the screen above him, carefully analyzing the picture of Michael Eastcott.  “And he’s obviously working with someone, if he’s managed to stay underground this long.”_

_“My thoughts exactly,” Chin agrees.  “It says cause of death is a car crash, but if nobody actually saw him die, then we couldn’t know for sure.  I’m thinking once we get the identity of our John Doe we will know a little more.  Right now I don’t see how this guy could have any ties to someone who would want to kidnap or injure Steve.”_

_Danny nods silently, the gears in his mind turning.  So they know they’re dealing with professionals here, maybe ex-military given the skill and speed with which they took Steve down.  His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he chews on the bottom one, trying to form an idea.  “Maybe we arrested one of these guys,” he suggests.  “That’s enough cause for someone to want revenge.”_

_“Yeah,” Chin says.  “Maybe.”_

_The two of them fall into an amicable silence for a few moments before Danny’s ringtone blares obnoxiously throughout the room.  He fumbles a little in his haste to grab it, heart skipping a beat at Max’s information on the front of the device.  His thumb swipes across the screen quickly._

_“Max, please tell me you have something,” Danny answers, ignoring Chin’s intense gaze._

_“Detective, I have the identity of your John Doe,” Max says, tones clipped, as if he knows they’re running out of time.  “The man you found dead in Steve McGarrett’s house is a Tyler Holbrook.”_

_“Tyler Holbrook,” Danny murmurs to Chin, who quickly types the name into the computer and presses a series of buttons._

_“The cause of death was multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, and the gun was indeed fired by Commander McGarrett,” Max continues.  “However, I found something else interesting.  Mr. Holbrook appears to have a tattoo of a dragon on his left shoulder.  It’s a design I’ve seen before though I can’t quite place where.”_

_“Okay, thanks, Max, good work,” Danny praises the medical examiner, hanging up the phone quickly.  “He says this guy had some sort of dragon tattoo.  Maybe cross-reference the information we’ve got on him and Eastcott with local gangs or drug rings?”_

_“No need,” Chin says.  “Looks like Tyler Holbrook got out of prison two weeks ago after a twenty-year stint in Halawa for his involvement in a local drug ring headed by a man named Herbert Lehman.”  Chin looks down and types a few things before making a strange noise.  “I’ll be damned,” he comments._

_Danny’s heart skips another beat.  “What?”_

_Chin swipes upward and two pairs of eyes look up at the screen above them.  “Look who arrested him.”_

_“John McGarrett,” Danny reads aloud._

_“Yeah, and it looks like Herbert Lehman died in prison ten years into his sentence, so why would one of his men help kidnap Steve?”_

_Danny ponders that for a minute or two.  “Maybe this is an intergenerational thing,” he supplies.  “Did this guy have a son?  Maybe a brother?”_

_Chin types more, looking down at the computer screen intently.  “No siblings,” he informs Danny slowly.  “But yeah, looks like he had one son.  Adrian Lehman.  No priors.”  Chin sounds thoughtful.  “Maybe we shouldn’t be looking at the guys who helped.  Maybe Lehman’s son is behind this.”_

_Danny squints, biting his bottom lip again.  “No priors, though?  Why come out of the woodwork now?”_

_“Revenge is forceful, Danny,” Chin says, looking over at the blonde.  “If Adrian Lehman knows John McGarrett is the one who put his father in prison, he may want revenge for his old man’s death.  He would have been about twenty-five years old when Herbert Lehman died, putting him in his mid-thirties now.  Enough time to stew on it and organize something like this for sure.”_

_“Okay, so Adrian Lehman’s father dies in prison.  He sees red, waits ten years to put together a team made up of other people who might also want revenge-,”_

_“Then John McGarrett dies and he loses his target,” Chin finishes, looking at Danny._

_“Steve is the next best thing,” Danny states, and now that the idea has formed in his mind, the words flow freely.  “Lehman arranges to have Steve kidnapped in John McGarrett’s stead.”_

_“It’s a solid lead,” Chin agrees, already heading towards his office and donning a bulletproof vest.  “I say we go pay Adrian Lehman a visit.”_

 

“This is your last warning or we’re coming in!”  Chin’s voice rings out, drawing Danny out of his stupor.  Chin turns to look at Danny and Kono, mouthing a silent _three, two, one_ , then turning and kicking backwards into the door.  The wood bursts open easily under Chin’s force and the three of them swarm into the house, guns raised and pointed, all heading into different areas of the residence.  Danny’s pulse races a mile a minute as he starts to hear the shouts of “clear” from his teammates, his spirits sinking as he realizes that they may have the right person in mind, but the wrong location.

“Clear,” Chin calls from the room adjoining the one Danny is in, and he walks through the door with his weapon lowered.  “He’s not here.”

Danny clears his throat, also lowering his gun, and begins to gesture restlessly.  “If he’s not here then where is he?” he demands, feeling the first hint of tears beginning to prick at his eyes.  

“I don’t know, but Lehman would have to be an idiot to keep a man prisoner in his own home,” Chin replies gently.  “I’m thinking he has another location he’s holding Steve at.  Maybe somewhere his father used back when he was running drugs.”

“Danny!  Chin!” Kono yells then, her voice echoing in the empty house.  “Come take a look at this!”

Danny glances at Chin before heading towards the staircase, taking the steps two at a time as he follows Kono’s voice.  He ends up in what appears to be Adrian Lehman’s bedroom, although it looks as though the man hasn’t been home for a few days.  A fine layer of dust has gathered on his dresser and nightstand, and the bed is made up, but that’s not what Kono is looking at.  Danny approaches her from behind, staring past her and into Lehman’s closet.  The man’s clothes have been pushed aside to reveal an assortment of photos, newspaper clippings, and personal information about Steve, all situated around a map of Hawaii; and, near one corner of the map, a small area is circled in red.

“There,” Danny provides, pointing.  “That’s gotta be it.”

“I think there’s a few factories in that area,” Kono supplies, turning to look at Danny and then Chin.  “Lehman could be holding Steve in one of them.”

“Let’s go,” Chin says.

 

The drive to Kapolei seems to take a lifetime, the normal too-fast rumble of the Camaro beneath Danny now feeling too slow, despite the high rate of speed at which he is going.  His heart pounds, his breath comes in short pants, and a mixture of hope and fear pools in his gut.

_“You need a break, Danno,”_ keeps playing over and over in his head, mocking him, reminding him that it’s his own damn fault they’re in this predicament.  Steve would be safe if he had been there; lord knows they spend every waking hour with each other.  Maybe if Danny hadn’t been on forced leave, he would’ve been at Steve’s the night this went down, kicking back with a few Longboards.  

  He knows that either Chin or Kono have spoken to Duke when a battalion of HPD squad cars falls into formation behind Kono’s car, their lights flashing in his rearview mirror, but all Danny can think about is Steve.  It’s already been so long with no word, and though he tries to clamp down on the fearful possibility of his partner being dead, he can’t help but think that they’re doing too little, too slowly.  He knows, without a doubt, that he would storm any building to get to his partner, no matter how many foes stood in his way, and no matter how much backup came behind him.  

“Hang on for me, Steve,” he mutters to himself, and he knows the car is empty besides him, but it feels like the right thing to do.

Not long after, he pulls behind what appears to be an abandoned factory, killing the engine and exiting the car before he can even form a solid plan with his teammates.

“Danny, wait,” he hears Chin hiss, but the words fall on deaf ears, much like similar situations between him and McGarrett.  It almost makes him laugh, a sort of hysteria gripping his chest as he draws his gun and sneaks quietly into the building.  A few steps in he knows for sure that Chin and Kono are present, their near-silent footsteps padding along behind him.  The place is dark and dank, and it strikes him that this seems like the perfect place to run a drug ring.  Or hold a kidnapped law enforcement agent.  Either, really.  The three of them sneak quietly towards a set of double doors, careful to open them soundlessly, and find themselves in a stairwell.

“Which way are you thinking, up or down?” Kono whispers to Danny, and he doesn’t hesitate before responding, “Down.”  

Chin nods.  “Kono and I can take upstairs,” he offers, and Danny doesn’t agree, instead starting downstairs without looking back.  He hears Chin and Kono go up a few moments later and soon there’s nothing left but the hushed sound of his footsteps on the stairs and quiet inhales and exhales.  A minute or so into his trek, Danny finally decides it’s too dark and flips a switch on the top of his gun, his flashlight illuminating the space around him.  He continues, and everything is dead silent for a while before his com system crackles and Kono speaks.

“Danny?  Anything?” she asks.

“No, nothing so far,” Danny responds, finally getting to the bottom of the stairs and taking a breather.  “You?”

“Nothing up here so far,” she answers.  “Keep us posted.”

“Copy,” Danny says, thus ending the conversation.  He reaches up with his free hand and wipes at a bead of sweat forming on his brow, then slowly starts forward again, the flashlight guiding his way.  The air feels close down here, and Danny feels tendrils of claustrophobia slithering into his chest and compressing, but he resolutely ignores the panicky feeling and keeps going.  _For Steve,_ he reminds himself as he ghosts along, checking each room he comes to.

The place seems to go on for an eternity, though Danny knows it’s just his mind playing tricks on him; however, the further he goes, the lighter it seems to get, and after a few more seconds he turns a corner and enters a dimly lit hallway.  Quickly, he kills the flashlight, gazing down the narrow corridor.

“I think I’ve got something,” he whispers.  “There’s a hallway.  I’m gonna check it out.”

“Be careful, Danny,” Chin advises.

“Copy that.”  Danny starts forward at a crouch, keeping his ears and eyes alert but moving quickly.  As he nears the end of the hallway, he can see that it turns only to the left, and he noiselessly flattens himself against the wall and peeks around the edge. 

There’s a man that Danny immediately recognizes to be Michael Eastcott patrolling around the corner, toting what appears to be a semi-automatic weapon tucked up under his right arm.  He’s big, but nothing that Danny can’t take.  When the man turns his back to begin his paces down the corridor, Danny takes his opportunity and sprints at him, managing to gain enough height to wrap an arm around his throat, cutting off his airway.  The man sputters and grasps at Danny’s arm, but eventually goes limp in Danny’s hold and falls to the floor.  Danny leaves him there, sneaking towards the end of the hall, and now he’s pretty sure he can hear muffled sounds somewhere nearby.

“I hear voices, I think,” he murmurs to Chin and Kono, and yes, now that he pays closer attention, he can definitely hear someone speaking in hushed tones.

“Good, ‘cause there’s nothing up here,” Chin replies.  “We’re headed down to you.”

“There’s a body in the hallway behind me,” Danny informs his teammates quietly.  “Seems as though Michael Eastcott was friends with Lehman after all.”

“Copy,” Chin says, and the line goes silent.  Danny swallows dryly, creeping forward until he reaches the end of the corridor, then turns to look to his left.  

A very large man that he doesn’t recollect seeing during the investigation is standing guard outside a rusty metal door, an assault rifle hanging by a strap over his left shoulder, his right hand grasping the foregrip.  Danny grimaces, his own handgun paling in comparison to the other man’s larger-scale weapon.  The logical side of his personality, the one he’d like to think is much larger than his unreasonable side, warns him to just wait for Chin and Kono; they’re his _teammates_ , after all.  Then, in a sickeningly slow chain of events, Danny hears a groan followed by a choked-off cry and realizes that Steve is behind that door; and, in a moment of pure, red-hot rage, Danny loses control over his sensible side and takes off around the corner towards the guard.  It takes a few seconds for the man to comprehend the fact that someone much shorter than him is careening towards him in attack mode, but by the time he lifts his gun to fire a shot, Danny has already put four bullets in his chest.  The man’s large form collapses limply onto the floor just as Danny reaches the door.  On the other side of the door someone shouts, then Steve emits a muffled sort of sob.

“Chin, Kono, I think I’ve found Steve,” he gasps as he comes to a halt and scans the entryway.  A heavy padlock hangs from the handle, totally preventing him from getting into the room, and without a window to see through he can’t be certain that Steve is conscious or even alive after that scream.

“We’re almost to you,” Chin informs Danny, and his voice sounds more strained than usual.  “Is he okay?  Can you see him?”

“No, no, I can’t, the door is locked, and I can’t see anything at all.”  Danny wishes he could remove the fear and anxiety from his mind with a scalpel blade, cursing his own weakness as he leans forward and inspects the lock a little closer.  “I’m gonna shoot it.”  He leaves little time for a reply before backing up a few steps, aiming, and squeezing the trigger.  The lock blows to pieces and a voice inside the room shouts something unintelligible.  From just down the corridor, Danny can hear Chin and Kono coming his way at what sounds to be a full-on sprint, but he doesn’t wait for them.  With white hot rage guiding him, he swiftly kicks the door in and rushes into the room.

The breath is punched out of his body at the scene before him.

“ _Steve._ ”


	6. Foolish Devouring Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Steve hears a zipper being undone, and with a sick feeling he wonders what’s going to happen next. The man grips Steve’s jaw, forcing his mouth open and stuffing the ball gag back into place. “I’m going to fuck you, and I’ll come inside you hearing your cries.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in one day! Not gonna lie, I'm pretty surprised at myself. I guess being home sick from work has its perks! 
> 
> **THIS CHAPTER IS DARK, EVERYONE! PLEASE TAKE NOTE AND DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE BOTHERED BY RAPE SCENES!**
> 
> As I always say, kudos/comments are greatly appreciated, and once more, I am so happy to see that people are keeping up with this story and commenting! Thanks for your support, guys! :)

The next time his captor returns, Steve starts to beg.

At first it’s just sounds, little pleading noises slipping out around the gag in his mouth, trails of spit dripping to the ground audibly, but the man takes no notice.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting you to last this long,” he says by way of conversation, ignoring Steve’s whimpers.  “I mean, I knew you were strong, but I didn’t think you were _this_ strong.”  The man’s footsteps stroll casually around the St. Andrew’s Cross, circle after circle, until he comes to a halt.  Steve can feel his body heat, likes waves off an electric heater, and a hand reaches down between his legs to cup his flaccid cock.

“I almost expected you to be hard,” the man murmurs, lips ghosting across Steve’s shoulder.  Slowly, the hand moves further down, and a finger traces softly over Steve’s painfully stretched hole.  “I wish you could feel how tight you are right now,” he continues.  “I don’t think you can take much more, honestly, but I bet your body can handle just about anything, can’t it?”  The finger stops, forgoing the journey around Steve’s hole and instead pushing, forcing its way inside him right next to the metal object.  Steve screams, jerking in the restraints, and his abductor laughs.

“I guess I was wrong!” he says gleefully.  “Apparently even the great Steven McGarrett has his limitations!”  The finger disappears, the man’s hand moving back up to squeeze at Steve’s soft cock, coaxing it into hardness.  “Let’s see how it feels for you to come with that pipe inside you, shall we?”  Steve mewls around the gag, a pitiful plea for it to end, but his captor once more ignores it.  

After that, Steve loses track of everything:  how much time has passed, the amount of screams that leave his throat sore and his abdomen aching, the number of orgasms the man pulls out of his already wrung out body.  Everything bleeds together, and all thought of rescue becomes a rapidly dimming fantasy in an otherwise terrible situation.  Eventually, Steve loses consciousness and sinks into a darkness filled with unpleasant dreams and ghosts of pain.

 

“Wake up, Steven.”  

The voice pervades the darkness, unwelcome and cold, as Steve wakes up.  His entire body feels on fire; new pain in his chest and abdomen suggest he may have been used as a punching bag, or perhaps tased.  

“You fell into quite a state of unconsciousness,” his captor states from somewhere nearby.  “I was unsure you would ever wake up.  It took me quite a while to get your attention.”  

Groggily, Steve realizes the gag has been removed.  His lips feel dry, so dry he knows they will bleed if he tries to speak, so he doesn’t say anything in response.  

“You know, I’ve been trying to think of something more unique for today,” the man says nonchalantly, as if they’re just a couple of friends having a beer together.  “And I think you’re really going to like what I’ve come up with.”

Steve’s heart speeds up, his body pulling for what seems the billionth time against the shackles holding him down.  He can hear his abductor sifting through what sounds like multiple different objects, then the man approaches him.  Wordlessly, he grips Steve’s limp cock in one hand, once more tugging it to force some life into it, then the hand stills.

“I want to hear you scream, Steven,” the man says menacingly.  A few seconds pass, during which Steve tells himself he will _not_ scream, he will _not_ give this man that satisfaction; then something cold and wet presses against the opening of his cock.  With a jolt of shock, Steve realizes the man is doing to his cock the _exact same thing_ he did to Steve’s ass.  “That’s right,” the man coos.  “It’s a sound.  Have you ever heard of these?  I’ve always wanted to try this on someone.”  Slowly, the metal rod pushes in, its travel helped along by what feels to be a bit of lube.  As the device goes deeper, however, Steve groans at how much it burns and shifts his body, trying to pull away.  The resistance only serves to delight his abductor, who chuckles, then forces the metal even further, pulling a choked-off cry out of Steve.

“I must admit, you took that like a champ.”  The words are little comfort.  Steve can feel his thighs trembling, his cock aching as the metal tool settles inside him.  “But I didn’t get the scream I wanted.  I think we should remedy that.”

Finally, Steve finds his voice.  

“Please, no,” he begs, voice cracking from disuse.  “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” the man hisses, grabbing hold of Steve’s throbbing cock.  “I’ll do what I damn well please, Steven, and don’t you forget that.  I told you from the start, you will die in here.  And I’ll make sure you die suffering.”  Then Steve hears a zipper being undone, and with a sick feeling he wonders what’s going to happen next.  The man grips Steve’s jaw, forcing his mouth open and stuffing the ball gag back into place.  “I’m going to fuck you, and I’ll come inside you hearing your cries.”

Steve shouts as best he can, his plea of _No!_ coming out only as a muffled yell.  

“Yes!” his captor cries, clearly manic, and his body becomes flush with Steve’s as he lines his cock up to Steve’s abused hole and pushes in.  

A tortured sob emanates from the depths of Steve’s chest, pain exploding in his lower body as the man begins fucking into him in earnest.  He can feel a trickle of something running down the inside of his thigh and he realizes with horror that it must be blood.  _His blood._ They remain locked that way for what feels like years, the exerted pants of Steve’s abductor blowing into his face in hot waves as he rapes Steve without pause.  From this angle, Steve can feel the man’s cock hitting his prostate head-on, forcing his body into a state of filthy, sick ecstasy, and making his stomach queasy.

Then a gunshot sounds.

Steve knows that sound anywhere.  His rapist stalls in his thrusting, and by the feel of it he turns to look at the door.

“Hello?” he calls out.  Nobody answers, and Steve’s heart is in his throat, waiting, when the door flies in and-

“ _Steve!_ ”

Danny is in the room quicker than lightning, the voice unmistakable even if Steve’s eyes can only see a silhouette framed against the light coming from the open door.  His partner takes note of the situation, and Steve barely has the chance to count _one, two, three_ before Danny has planted four bullets into the back of his captor.

The man’s cock slides out of Steve as his body falls to the ground, then Danny is by Steve’s side, voice choked with tears as his hands flutter all over Steve’s body, clearly unsure where to start.

“Steve, God, Steve,” he chants.  A few moments later Kono and Chin arrive, and Steve knows he is safe.  His eyes drift shut as his body clocks out, and his mind follows just seconds later.  

This time, he welcomes the darkness like an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how short this chapter was! Never fear, though! There will be one or two more chapters, so this is certainly not the end.


End file.
